Broken Hearted Melody
by Nuele
Summary: It is made clear that Spike is dead when we see his star fading out at the end of the final episode- but what if his supposed death just meant the end of a second life, and the beginning of a third? Chapter 3 is up.
1. Hero's Requiem

Writer's Note-  
Hey, everybody. Just thought I'd provide a little insight before I actually began the story. I know you're probably all sick of those Spike's- not-dead fanfics, (I don't think I'm actually spoiling anything- the beginning is pretty obvious) but I really wanted to do this one. Bear with me for now, Bebop and crew will return later on in the story. This is probably not be my best work, but I'm happy with it so far. All I have written so far is the beginning, so please let me know what you think. If I get good reviews, I'll probably continue it, if not, I may anyway. This chapter is pretty 'G' material, but I'm already suspecting violence later on will change that. I'm going to apologize now, for my notes taking so long, for any grammatical, spelling, etc. errors, and for using the words 'yeah' and 'alright' too much. -.- By the by, I don't own Cowboy Bebop... So here we go.  
  
Broken Hearted Melody  
Hero's Requiem  
  
As soon as the blonde stranger shoved open the door, upbeat contemporary music met her ears. Drawing inward, she drank in the club's ambience with masked delight. Everything, from the smoke filled ceiling, to the insane improvisations emitting from the band, had a certain retro, late nineteen-forties feel, heavily mixed with modern culture. The men there wore loose rat pack style suits; the women, jazzy dresses or pant suits of nearly every imaginable color, fabric, and design.  
Realizing she had broken a smile, the woman collected herself and forced a cool, nonchalant expression.  
'You are composed,' she thought to herself. 'Mysterious, apathetic- you have a task. Be professional.' She nodded, straightening the hem of her black, velvet dress, a few inches below the knee, then took a deep breath and mingled into the crowd.  
The whole aura was invigorating, the music being the life and pulse of the place. Without the jazz, there was nothing. Without that musical force, it was just a smokey building filled with people in old costumes.  
The blonde quickly wove her way through the dancing crowd, making her way towards the bar. She picked an empty stool and sat, mumbling her order to the bartender. In a few moments, it arrived.  
She sat there, elbows on the bar, slowly sipping her light liquor drink through a straw. Eventually, she gradually began to shift her eyes to the left, attempting to steal a look at the character next to her- he was the reason she chose the seat.  
The man was tall, she could tell even when he sat. His lanky limbs only heightened the look. His face was fixed in a grin, his eyes entirely covered by large, dark black sunglasses. He wore dark slacks, with a casual blue button-up shirt. The woman spotted a matching black coat hanging from the back of a stool, the final piece of his contemporary rat pack getup. His most noticeable feature; though, was his hair, a large brown mass of curl and frizz. He faced the opposite direction of the bar, his back against it and his hands folded behind his head.  
She had been eyeing him for some time when he finally turned his head slightly, presumably looking her in the eyes, although it was impossible to know for sure. Startled and slightly embarrassed, the woman averted her gaze back to her glass.  
"Can I help you with something?" he asked in a friendly enough tone.  
She simply shook her head, and thought for a moment before speaking up.  
"You look just like him," she observed, drawing her eyes back to his again.  
"Who?" he asked, an eyebrow extending from above the rim of his glasses."  
She shrugged. "You know. Him. Spiegel."  
"I know," he answered with a quiet chuckle. "I've heard that before."  
"The resemblance is uncanny... Have you heard? They say he's dead."  
He nodded, dropping his hands and propping his elbows on the bar, turning his head to stare straight before him.. "I believe it. A guy I knew was his good friend, and he told me it was true."  
"Ah. Shame."  
He turned back, tilting his head in curiosity. Even behind the shades, she could tell he was looking at her skeptically.  
"Really?" he wondered aloud. "Even for you?  
"What? Why would you say that?"  
"Spiegel's not exactly a celebrity... Sure, some people would recognize his face, but most of those people have prices on their heads."  
She looked rather insulted. "How dare you suggest such a thing!" she blurted out. "I am a well-mannered woman! You don't even know me!"  
The look-a-like turned his shoulders. "No offense. I was just saying. Sorry."  
She sighed and calmed herself down. "Fine. It's alright."  
For some several minutes they sat in silence, until the man started up again, just as the saxophonist began to improv a few runs.  
"Now I suppose we didn't just have that conversation for nothing..." he said with a smile. "You look like you need something."  
"Ah... Yes, actually," she admitted. "I heard -from a friend- that you own a ship, and-"  
"Say no more. You need a ride? Where to?"  
"That's just the thing- I'm not sure. I'm trying to find somebody."  
"Somebody?"  
"Look..." she ran a hand through her long hair, he mouth turning to a frown. "I can't- No. Never mind. I'll tell you more later." She inhaled sharply, feeling as if she had just made a fatal mistake. "So can you help me?"  
He shrugged indifferently. "Alright, miss. For a fee, of course. The thing is, I don't want to get involved in anything illegal. Well..." he paused for a moment- "Not too illegal."  
The woman laughed politely. "Very well." She daintily extended a slender hand towards him. "This may be a long trip, so let's get acquainted, shall we?"  
He took her hand and shook it tightly, then arched one of his eyebrows. "Or was I supposed to kiss it? Anyway, I'm Colin Reilly. Just Reilly to most."  
She nodded, absorbing the information. "That's a good old Earth name... Same here. My name's Kathryn "  
Reilly removed his shades, shoving them into his shirt's breast pocket. "Alright then. I hope you don't mind sharing a room."  
She was taken aback. "With you?!"  
Her exclamation was met with blinks of surprise. "Wha-" he began, then stopped. "Well," he grinned, "only if you'd like to." Kathryn made a sour face, so he waved the comment away and continued. "No, in all seriousness, with a friend of mine. A woman. One of my crew, you could say."  
"Is there a large crew?"  
"Heh. Don't flatter me. It's just a small piece of junk ship."  
"...Oh."  
"Er-" he smacked his forehead. "Damn it! It's a good, safe ship, trust me. Just a little worn around the edges. Not very impressive looking."  
"Alright..." she replied with a sigh. "You've given me no reason to doubt you- yet. Can we discuss a fare later? I'd be happy to pay anything, provided it's not too ludicrously expensive. I would really like to leave soon."  
"Mmhm. Deal." The easygoing captain finally sat up straight and faced the bar, gulping down the remnants of his drink. He rested his chin against his chest and sighed contentedly.  
"Please, can we move?" Kathryn pleaded, shaking his arm while firmly grasping his bicep. "I really want to get out of here." She stared him straight in the eyes. "I need to go. Now."  
He took in the desperate woman's gaze, examining every inch of her solemnly begging stare. "Yeah," he returned slowly. "You're right. Let's get out of here." He stood up, grabbing his jacket and quickly throwing it on. "You have a car? We'd get back to the ship a lot faster."  
"Yeah," she responded without hesitating. "Do you have room for me to store it on the ship?" They began to walk out, and she shoved open the door. "...Or should I find a storage garage?" She led the way outside.  
Reilly glanced wistfully back at the bar as the band struck up a brassy bop number, the spotlight on a single trumpet player. "Man..." he sighed. "I really like that song." He shook his head and stepped through the doorway as he jammed his hands deep into his pockets. "Yeah," he finally answered. "We should have some extra room in the hangar."  
They hurriedly walked for a few blocks, the chill evening causing their breath to appear in icy clouds of mist. It was still early on in the night, but most of the buildings around them had already shut off their lights. Reilly cast a glance at the woman beside him, for the first time getting a good look at her. She was pretty, he admired, but he was able to tell that before. He fair complexion was beginning to turn rosy in the cold. He dress was long, but it still offered little protection against the nip of the wind and the cool of the air. Goose bumps began to appear on her bare arms. Reilly thought about offering Kathryn his coat, but decided against it- he didn't want to seem like he was hitting on her. Normally, he wouldn't care, but...  
She reminded him too much of her. Oh god, did she ever remind him. Then again, a lot of women did now- come to think if it, Kathryn really didn't even look much like her. The hair was similar, but that was all. Strange- he recalled the feeling of her cold locks against his cheek. The memory was comforting.  
Spike noticed that Julia had stopped, and she grabbed him around the elbow, tugging him back.  
"I said, 'We're here!'" Julia shouted.  
What was she talking about?  
"Julia?" he asked, confused.  
"No..." she replied, eying him in frustration. "Kathryn. You forgot my name already?"  
Kathryn... Damn, Reilly.  
"Oh... Eh heh." He half-faked being embarrassed. "Sorry. I'm bad with names." She simply emoted frustration.  
Reilly cursed himself again. Julia's dead. Spike's dead. That whole life is dead. If you had just let Spike die like he was supposed to the first time, you might still be on the Bebop. Spike at least had that. Three strikes and you're out- don't think you're gonna screw up this living too.  
Kathryn's car was an old machine, although she kept a new metallic blue paint job on it. The car drove with little noise, save the radio, which quietly hummed out tunes similar to those inside the club. A melody would be broken every so often by Reilly pointing out directions. They sat stony faced and apathetic, illuminated every few yards by a street light.  
"So..." Kathryn began, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. "What do you do with that ship for a living? I'm guessing it's not just commercial transport."  
Reilly chuckled. "No, though it has happened quite a few times before. We -the crew and I- run mainly as a small planet-to-planet fishing boat. We sell to little companies, self-employed merchants, things like that."  
Kathryn glanced at him momentarily, smiling. "I never would've guessed," she said, turning her eyes back to her driving. "How's the pay?"  
He snorted. "Lousy. We end up doing all sorts of odd jobs- stuff like this. Just to get by, you know?"  
"Uh huh..." Kathryn sounded pleased and smug, as if she had just figured something out. "I know what that means."  
He looked back at her, puzzled. "What?"  
"It's why you asked me if I had a price on my head- you hunt bounties, don't you?"  
"I..." He barely began before trailing off, suddenly fidgeting. He shifted in his seat, facing towards the window. "Maybe, yes. A few times. I'm not happy about it."  
"Something wrong?"  
"Yeah... Just never mind it."  
"...Alright..."  
Kathryn looked at him strangely, then shrugged it off and returned to attentive driving. This man was strange, all right. It seemed like he had problems with his past- he was definitely trying to forget something he should not. Maybe he had undergone some emotional pain while chasing out a bounty? He had called her something... Julia? Yes, that was it, and he had a lame excuse as well. She could understand being called Caitlin or Cathleen, but Julia? That was too far off. Unless he forgot the name altogether and just made some random guess.  
He was a character indeed.  
  
So, that's it. In traditional Cowboy Bebop fashion, I've decided to name the entire work and most, if not all, of the chapters after songs or types of music. The story's title, Broken Hearted Melody, is a song by Sarah Vaughan, a famous bebop singer who helped give the musical style it's popularity. The mood of the song doesn't really fit my work, but I really liked the title, so I figured I'd use it. The chapter isn't a song, but requiem is a style of funeral music. That's all I've got to say. Hope you enjoyed it. 


	2. He's Gone Now

Chapter two. I've been lazy. My bad. Hopefully the next chapter will be longer. This one's mainly a bridge, kinda sets up for what's going on. Don't worry, we catch a glimpse of Faye in this one. You just have to wade through a few more OCs. For this chapter's title, I tweaked the name of a song, "My Man's Gone Now," by George and Ira Gershwin, and DuBose Heyward. I mainly decided to change it a 'cause I don't consider Spike and Faye to love each other that way- more like Brother and Sister, you know?  
  
Broken Hearted Melody  
He's Gone Now  
  
"Right here," Reilly announced, pointing to the parking lot of a small harbor. "This is where the ship's at." He and Kathryn hadn't exchanged words for the rest of the short trip. The silence they had settled in was beyond uncomfortable. Kathryn was still pondering him, wondering who he really was. It was something eerie, but something she loved about meeting new people- every new face had an old history behind it. Tragedy, sad it sometimes was, could always make the past more interesting.  
"What now?" Kathryn inquired, shaking herself out of her thoughts and pulling her car into a vacant space.  
Without answering, Reilly pulled a video phone out of his pocket and speed dialed the first number on his list.  
"Yeah?" a male, suddenly flashing onto the screen, answered.  
"Hey, Nev. I've got a paying passenger here. I can introduce you two later. Can you come around and pick up her car?"  
"Ah... You know, Reilly..." the other man sighed, static overlapping his discontent. "That's the third odd job you've picked up this month. I'm done with 'em."  
"Eh?" Reilly answered, as if he wasn't paying attention.  
"You heard me. We're fishermen. Not a delivery service, not an airline- I don't have time for this anymore."  
"Ah, come on, Nev..." he pleaded in a low voice. "She's desperate."  
Nev didn't reply.  
"Name your price!" Kathryn interjected, grabbing the phone. "Please, please, I just want to find someone! No one else will take me, and you're my last chance!"  
All of them were silent for a while.  
"Yeah, alright," Nev finally replied, intentionally gruff. "I can't believe this..."  
Kathryn slumped back in her seat and exhaled relief.  
"I'll be there in five minutes," Nev went on, "be ready."  
Reilly snapped off the video phone and shoved it back into his pocket. "See? That's Nev for you. He seems harsh, but he's a good guy. Just listen to what he says, and you'll get along fine."  
"I thought you said were the captain..." Kathryn said suspiciously.  
"Well... Kind of. It's really an equal partnership. I run the schedules, Nev actually owns the ship. Everyone else helped contribute to start the business."  
"Really? How much does it cost to start something like that?"  
He shrugged. "Wouldn't know. I came on late."  
Their conversation was stopped by a loud rapping on the window.  
"There's Nev."  
Nev was of medium height, a thin man with scruffy blonde hair and an even scruffier five o'clock shadow. He wore torn up jeans and a greasy t- shirt.  
"You'll have to excuse my appearance," he grunted to Kathryn, "but the engines on the fritz again and we've been working hard to get the kinks out. We still haven't fixed the supporter that blew out last run."  
Kathryn turned wide eyed to Reilly.  
He smiled innocently and shrugged. "Just a little worn around the edges... So can we still fly?"  
"Oh yeah, definitely. But we won't hit anywhere near top speed, and our acceleration will be shit."  
"That's good enough for me," Kathryn responded.  
"Well then," Nev opened the door his planet-level transport ship. It contained a small hangar, originally designed for hauling crates to cruisers, big enough to fit Kathryn's car and take it up to the ship.  
On the deck of the trawler, Nev immediately returned to the engine, promising Kathryn they'd be ready to leave by early morning. Reilly showed her to her room, then retired to his own with a wide yawn. She dragged her luggage from the trunk of her car and dumped it all at the foot of her bed. She could already tell her roommate wasn't much for cleanliness, which suited Kathryn perfectly.  
After changing into sleeping clothes, she climbed into her bed, exhausted. Just as she was settling in, the door opened, a silhouette stepped in, and then it closed again.  
"Kathryn?" a voice whispered in the dark.  
She sat up. "Yes? That's me."  
"Oh good. You're awake. Can I flip this light on?"  
"Go ahead. It won't bother me."  
The light fixture overhead flashed on, revealing a woman who had clearly been working with Nev on the engine. She wore a pair of well used overalls, with a haggard old long sleeved shirt beneath. Her brown hair was tied behind her head in a ponytail, streaked with grease. Her face, as well as her entire body was covered with grime and oil. A pair of oval glasses rested on her nose.  
"Absolutely filthy, aren't I?" she asked with a laugh. "I should shower, but I'm way too tired. Eh, I'll just wash my sheets tomorrow. Oh!" She snapped her fingers. "We'll be up and running in a few hours. Nev is setting a course for Mars, is that alright?"  
"Mars..." Kathryn ran it over in her head. "Yes, that sounds fine."  
"Cool! I'm glad to have a new roommate, actually. Kathryn, right?"  
"Yep. And you are?"  
"Hannah Trin. Obviously the mechanic."  
"Pleasure. Is the crew just the three of you?"  
"Yes. We used to have one more, but she left. Got into a big argument with Reilly, and just up and went. We left her on Mars, so we're going back to check on her. I suspect she'll want to come back."  
"An argument about what?"  
"Oh, I don't know. With Reilly, you never know. Don't get me wrong, he's generally a real nice guy, but he can be so disagreeable sometimes. Especially-" she shifted her eyes and dropped her voice, as if making sure no one else heard. "Especially about his past. We don't know anything about him before he came to us. You know..." she sat on her bed, removing her glasses, setting them on her dresser and looking rather smug, "I bet he was a criminal, or something."  
"You're kidding!"  
"I know, I could never picture it. But what other explanation is there?"  
"Well... I asked him about bounty hunting, and he seemed very uncomfortable after that."  
"Ahh... Good thought..." Hannah gave a wide yawn, switching off the lights. "Oh well. It's none of our business." Distinct sounds of her covers rustling suggested she was getting comfortable. "If you like I can show you around the ship tomorrow. For now... goodnight."  
Kathryn mumbled a similar well wishing and drifted off to a peaceful sleep, more restful than any she had in quite a while.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Faye Valentine lay on the couch, her feet dangling off the edge, puffs of smoke slowly drifting away from her face, as usual. This was how she spent her days, just lounging around, waiting for a bounty head. Occasionally she would pick up a magazine, but mostly she just sat and thought. Jet moped around most of the time, performing some meaningless task- trimming his bonsais, fixing up the ship... Anything unimportant. She guessed it was hard for him, being Spike's partner for so long. What was with that guy anyway? When he was around, nobody could stand him. When he was gone, everybody wanted him back. He was a damn fool. He was a poofy- haired idiot who couldn't wait to run out there and get himself killed. That thought forced an old memory to surface-  
  
...Spike looked at his hand, flexing his fingers, as if he was clutching something very important.  
"Maybe this is the one," he said gravely. "The one I won't come back from. The end."  
Faye raised her head, looking alarmed.  
Spike smiled. "I'm just playing with your head," he teased.  
She turned back, trying to raise her nonchalant mask again, but tears already stung at the corners of her eyes.  
"Would you rescue me if it were true?"  
"...Lunkhead," she replied bitterly...  
  
Faye wondered why she had remembered that just then. By all means, he should've died that night. He got lucky, that was all. He got lucky loads of times- when it came to fighting, at least.  
"He took one too many risks," she assured herself aloud, as flick away her cigarette and slowly closed her eyes. 


	3. Sophisticated Lady

Welcome to chapter 3! This one deals mainly with emotional backstory stuff. You get to learn some of Kathryn's now- the rest is revealed later. For next chapter, I PROMISE there will be a lot more action. Probably a hand to hand combat... And if you're all on your best behavior, maybe some guns. This chapter's name! It's a song by the great Duke Ellington, one of his more popular works. I chose it because it's kind of fits now, and it's kind of ironic later on. Maybe you'll see.  
  
Broken Hearted Melody Sophisticated Lady  
  
That night, Kathryn dreamed more easily than she had in ages. She dreamed she was a young girl again, back before she had left home and undertaken the harsh realities of real, unsheltered life. She was a pretty youth, with a placid smile and beautiful grey eyes. She was teased for her sing-song voice, but she didn't care. She was protected and loved, and couldn't have wished for anything more.  
She awoke slowly, to the sound of simple music. She slowly drifted from dream to reality, carefully examining each fantasy as it passed away. Her cheerful smile rarely turned up anymore; instead, she wore a forced grin. Her eyes no longer shone the way they did, but seemed dulled, still attractive, yet strangely haunting. Her lovely voice became the collected voice of an aged woman, perhaps more respectable, but less charming. It was all because of age, she often assured herself; yet things weren't the same...  
She became aware of the tune that stirred her from memory. She turned over in bed, and saw Hannah putting on a pair of socks, humming to herself, looking rather clean and refreshed. A towel lay in a messy pile next to her bed.  
Hannah glanced up. "Oh. Hello. Sleep well?"  
"Very," Kathryn replied, still sleepy. "I dreamed about when I was younger."  
"Ah... The new girl has a back story! Happy to be away from home?"  
She hesitated. "No... No, not at all. I miss it."  
"That's a shame. Why? Family?"  
"Yes, partially. That, and the comforts of having a place to call home. You know-"  
A loud knock on the door interrupted her.  
Hannah rolled her eyes. "Come in!"  
The door opened and Reilly stepped in, wearing a much more casual outfit than the night before. "Morning. The engine is fine again. We're on a course to Mars."  
"Lovely," Hanna replied. "Is that all?"  
He blinked. "...I guess."  
"Then if you'll excuse us..." Hannah rose to her feet and began ushering Reilly out of the room. "We were having a nice chat, until you barged in."  
He stopped and turned, pointing straight at her. "Now wait a minute! I knocked!"  
"Out!" She shoved him through the doorway.  
"Well, hey, wait!" Kathryn called, sitting up in bed. "He can stay. I don't care."  
"Better idea," Reilly replied. "Get dressed, showered if you need to, and you can tell us about yourself over breakfast."  
She shrugged. "That sounds fine. What are we having?"  
Reilly made a face. "Fish."  
  
Within an hour, Kathryn, Reilly, Nev, and Hannah were all assembled at the ship's makeshift dining room- a table surrounded with chairs, set up in the middle of the rec room, all wearing something along the lines of comfortable pants and shirts, good for relaxing in. Hanna had fried fish for them, while Nev scrambled eggs. Kathryn insisted on helping, while Reilly, on the other hand, refused to do anything. Instead, he sat around and watched television, until his meal was served, at which point, he dumped salt over everything and complained about the flavor.  
"You're a real pain in the ass," Nev told him through a mouthful of food.  
Reilly didn't reply, remaining fixated on his fork, which he used to mash his eggs further.  
"He's like a little kid," Hannah went on. "Fix him a meal, and he'll complain about it for five minutes, then scarf it in two."  
Kathryn attempted to keep from laughing.  
"He thinks he's a royal princess," Nev smirked, "we should-"  
"Anyway," Reilly declared boldly, slamming a glass of orange juice on the table, forcing it to slosh over his hand. "What did you want to tell us Kathryn?"  
"Oh," she said with a blush, "nothing in particular. I just figured you might like to know where I want to go."  
Hanna swallowed politely before speaking. "First, I'd rather hear about why you left home, and why you're regretting it."  
Kathryn turned pink again. "Of course," she replied, collecting herself and beginning to speak. "Well, I lived a normal middle-class kid life, I had friends and family, and a nice home."  
"Boyfriend?" Hannah asked curiously.  
She smiled. "A steady one every now and then. Never too serious. I had the occasional teenager problem, but I was satisfied with everything the way it was. I guess the real reason I left was because I didn't realize I was satisfied. As my friends began to move away, I though I wanted to as well. I was under the illusion that I wanted to see more, to know more... I was wrong. I guess I'm more of the stay-at-home type of person. I returned home, but my mother had been sick for the past few years, and passed away shortly after I came back. My father took it badly, and ran off on his own. I really don't know where he is now. After touring the galaxy, I had very little money left, and couldn't own a house on my own. I've been living from ship to ship and apartment to apartment for four years now. Two years ago, I found out my dad died. Last week, I lost my job as a pianist at a fancy restaurant downtown- maybe you've heard of it? The Western Sun. Nice place, stiff management. So here I am now, jobless and homeless. To explain why I want to leave, I'm looking for a very old friend of my father's. I think he can help me with my financial crisis, but I'm not sure exactly where he is. That's all, I guess..."  
"Wow," Hanna said, sinking back in her wooden chair. "Poor thing. That's a lot to handle."  
Reilly, who had cleared his plate, sat thoughtfully for a moment. "I feel for you. I know what it's like to lose all that. I know what it's like to jump from life to life."  
"And yet you've never told us this?" Nev asked, raising a single eyebrow.  
"Nope. It's none of your business. Anyway, Kathryn, you have no idea if this guys on Mars at all?"  
"I think he may be. My father once mentioned something about his owning a club there- he's a very rich man."  
Reilly chuckled. "Lucky guy."  
The conversation that followed was light, apparently everyone was satisfied with the state of things. Kathryn's mystery was unraveled, for the moment, and the ship was flying finely. They all eventually drifted in separate directions. Kathryn returned to her quarters to set things up for herself, Reilly settled down on the couch, Nev went to do some reading, and Hannah entertained herself by playing computer games.  
A half an hour later, Kathryn looked around her newly decorated quarter, satisfied. Her clothes had all been put in the dresser, her toiletries stowed in the bathroom, and her personal decorations put in their proper places.  
"Oh, damn!" she cursed to herself, after searching for her wallet. She had left it in her purse, which was still in her car. She would have to find it in the hangar, which seemed to be an easy enough task- if she knew where the hangar was.  
Nev had shut himself up in his room, and Hannah seemed occupied, wearing a large pair of headphones.  
Reilly merely lay dazed on the couch, his eyes staring unfocused at the TV screen.  
"Reilly?" she addressed him gently.  
"Hm?" was his simple reply.  
"Where's the hangar?"  
Reilly didn't bother to say anything. He mechanically pointed to a general direction without taking his gaze of the television.  
"...Okay, thanks."  
Kathryn tried three different doors before she found the right one. She immediately knew the hangar, because she recognized the dim outline of Nev's ship in the dark. As she turned on a light, she discovered that the hangar itself was lined with large garage doors, though each one had a normal door next to it, so one didn't have to open the garage simply to enter the room. With a frown, Kathryn set to trying the doors.  
The first was darker than the main hangar itself- perhaps storage? If she was lucky, it would be her car. She didn't feel a light switch on the wall beside the door, so she continued in, letting the door close behind her. It was a mistake- she was quickly enclosed in darkness.  
"Now what?" she groaned. She had wandered too far away. "I guess I just have to bump around 'til I find the way out..."  
She ran into a tray of tools, forcing them to clatter against the ground, and bruising her thigh.  
"Damn it..." She kept her hand in front of her, and soon ran felt a large metallic surface.  
"Yes!" she cried happily. "The hangar door!" Upon further inspection though, she proved herself wrong. The metal thing was shaped, not flat. She ran her hands down along its frame, discovering it to be a ship.  
Suddenly, the door opened up, and light poured in. Kathryn glanced up at the object she was touching- it was indeed a ship, a planar level speeder, but this model was equipped with weapons. It was red, with a single-seater clear dome.  
"What the hell are you doing in here?" a voice called angrily behind her.  
Kathryn spun around, instinctively hiding her hands behind her back. A single, tall, silhouette filled the doorway, the top marked with eccentric hair. "Nothing," she spurted. "Sorry. I was looking for my car."  
"You didn't find it," Reilly replied sardonically.  
"I know, I'm sorry. The door closed behind me... Is this your plane?"  
"No," he answered hastily. "It's Nev's. It's broken. Doesn't fly. Come on, I know where your car is.  
She shrugged and followed him out the door.  
  
The next day, Kathryn awoke to an empty room, marked only by the gentle droning of the ship's machinery. She stumbled out the room, sleepily, in her pajamas, wondering if Hannah was always such an early riser. She found her roommate still staring blankly at her computer monitor, frantically clicking the mouse and occasionally slamming in sentences on the keyboard.  
"Hanna!" Kathryn gasped. "Have you been at that game all night?"  
"Mm..." her eyes were red with black bags beneath. "Yeah..."  
She shook her head and continued down the hall, looking to see if anyone else had risen yet. Upon entering the living room of the ship, she found Reilly, quietly running through standard martial arts movements, adhering to a painfully strict routine of positions and attacks. She stood silently, admiring him for a good few minutes before he finally noticed her.  
"Yeah? What's up?" he asked, breathing a little heavily, looking a little annoyed.  
"Oh... Nothing."  
He snorted. "It's always nothing with you, huh?"  
"I was just watching. I'm sorry."  
"It's alright... I was almost done anyway."  
"What were you doing?"  
"Jeet kune do. It's an old martial art."  
"Ah... I didn't know you fought."  
"I don't. Well, not anymore. I just use it to keep in shape, and as a sort of focus activity."  
"So... Do you think you'll ever need to use it again?"  
"To fight? Maybe." He thought for a moment. "Probably. Someone's bound to catch up on me sometime..."  
"What do you mean, 'catch up on me?' "  
"Did I say that?"  
"Yes. Quite plainly. What did you mean?" she repeated.  
"Eh... There's probably a few people out there who don't exactly agree with some of the things I've done."  
Kathryn didn't feel too comfortable pressing a man she had just met, but this one intrigued her. "Like what? Were you ever a criminal? Who did you used to fight."  
Reilly hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "A lot of different kinds..."  
"So were you?"  
"Was I what?"  
"A criminal!"  
He stopped, then actually began laughing. When he spoke again, he dropped his dramatic tone and picked up a normal, friendlier one. "Well now, I guess that depends on what you call a criminal! Either way, what's done is done. I'm not concerned with my past anymore, and you shouldn't be either."  
"Okay. Sorry if I intruded."  
"Not at all. I will tell you... one thing I have learned, we do need to remember the past sometimes..." He smiled to himself and left the room, leaving Kathryn behind, looking rather bewildered. 


End file.
